


Should've Seen The Water Rising

by Doodsxd



Series: Watch Me Unfold [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Clubbing, Dancing, Lapdance, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post-War, Resolved Sexual Tension, Song Lyrics, Stripper Draco Malfoy, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodsxd/pseuds/Doodsxd
Summary: Telling his friend that he was gay was kind of an accident. But it wasn't entirely his fault, either, that the news came like a cannonball, exploding between them. Rony was going on and on about how Harry had absolutely no reason to break up with his little sister, and even if it wasn't the only reason, Harry was nothing but a people pleaser, which meant that the words Rony, I'm a fucking poof made their way out of his mouth before he truly knew what was happening.Things got a bit awkward after that - not because Rony was a homophobe, really, but because he felt guilty about his rants over Ginny, and decided to be supportive. Which meant completely-over-supportive-almost-to-the-point-of-annoying. Hence their presence there.





	1. Criminal

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> So, yeah. Two fics on one day. Yay me. 
> 
> This is entirely self-indulgent, but I hope it indulges you lot too. 
> 
> Also, highly recommended that you listen to the songs linked in every chapter. The lyrics are there, and I know it's a bit boring, but if you feel like it, give it a try. I wrote it all listening and revolving those songs, so it may help to understand. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it.

Criminal

 

(Inspiration to the dance)

 

It was really awkward, just sitting there, waiting for the food to come. Neville, always the good chap, was tapping his fingers over the table, the only one that wasn't emanating embarrassment. He was quite taken with the music, and completely unbothered by what was going on around them.

“I love this song.” He said, nudging Harry with his elbow.

Seamus and Dean nodded, but said nothing, occupying himself with their pints. Seamus ordered a shot of Muggle absinthe next, and wasn't that a testimony of how uncomfortable they all were.

It was Ron’s idea, and to his benefit, he was holding on pretty well there. Yeah, he ducked his head once or twice there, mostly when a semi-nude waiter breezed past them, but his chin was held high and the tips of his ears weren't red, so there was that.

He should have come with the girls, but apparently, some gay strip clubs, like the one they were, put a limit to how many women were inside. Fag hags had their own clubs to attend to, and that one, according to Rony's research with some reliable sources (Harry shuddered to think just who was that), was the best in town.

Telling his friend that he was gay was kind of an accident. But it wasn't entirely his fault, either, that the news came like a cannonball, exploding between them. Rony was going on and on about how Harry had absolutely no reason to break up with his little sister, and even if it wasn't the only reason, Harry was nothing but a people pleaser, which meant that the words _Rony, I'm a fucking poof_ made their way out of his mouth before he truly knew what was happening.

Things got a bit awkward after that - not because Rony was a homophobe, really, but because he felt guilty about his rants over Ginny, and decided to be supportive. Which meant completely-over-supportive-almost-to-the-point-of-annoying.

Hence their presence there.

 _Come on, Harry,_ he said. _I'm secure enough of my sexuality not to feel uncomfortable with a bunch of naked blokes walking around me. It’ll probably even feel nostalgic, like Gryffindor dorms._

Except Rony probably wasn't that comfortable with his sexuality, in the end. Except that in Gryffindor dorms, there was a companionable atmosphere, comfortable and easy, not that sexual charged miasma that swirled around them along with every stripper, with every hint that to sexually arouse was the main goal there, and not just talk Quidditch and take a pint before going back home.

Harry looked around, searching for a bathroom, and then he saw Dean calling and talking to one of the waiters. Thomas pointed to Harry briefly before giving the man some money, and Harry felt dread bloom inside his chest. Oh, Merlin. This was a disaster. He had to get away.

“I’m going to the loo.” As soon as his ass was out of the chair, Ron held him and pushed him back.

“You’re going to wait.”

“Ron,” He giggled hysterically. “I need to go to the loo.”

“Sit down, mate,” Neville smiled. Was he high? It was the only way he could be so calm. “Dean just bought you a dance from the main stripper, and it would be very rude of you to make him dance to an empty chair, don’t you think?” He was smirking, the wanker.

“Guys, I don’t-” He choked when lights started to dim around him, starting to sweat. Oh, Morgana. That was happening. It was happening _right there_ , and he had no way of hiding. He tried to shift on the chair just to find out that it was fixed to the ground, as was his ass the the seat.

Great. Just great. Who needed Voldemort when he had so many _good_ friends?

Song started with a bassy beat, but nothing happened. They were on a round table almost on the center of the whole thing, surrounded by other tables, which was good. They were hidden. Maybe the man wouldn’t find Harry, if he was lucky.

Then, he appeared.

 

_I’ve been a bad, bad girl_

_I’ve been careless with a delicate man_

_And it’s a sad, sad world_

_When a girl will break a boy just because she can_

 

He entered the stage almost as if he was a maintenance guy, unbothered by all the people watching his every move. He was also wearing only a white t-shirt and black boxers, that could be a swimming suit, not for the soft fabric of them.

The man, blonde and muscled, with broad shoulders and narrow waist and _oh heavens, is that his arm?_ walked to the pole, and how did Harry miss it? Suddenly that pole became the center of his world, with what the almost dismissive way the dancer looked and touched it.

Strong hands grabbed the metal, and magic started. It wasn’t vulgar, it almost seemed like it wasn’t meant to be _sexy_ at all. Every move was airy and artistic, every twirl and show of brutal strength while the man put both arms on the pole and pulled his whole body up, up, _up_ , until his feet were a long way from the floor, just like a private dance - as if the man was doing his routine, by himself, just to exercise and feel good.

It felt like peeking at something intimate, and it was absolutely _wonderful_.

 

_Don’t you tell me to deny it_

_I’ve done wrong and I want to suffer from my sins_

_I’ve come to you ‘cause I need guidance to be true_

_And I just don’t know where I can begin,_

 

Neville poked him on the ribs and Harry blinked, leaning to hear him through the music. “What?”

“Never thought Malfoy could dance like that.” He commented and Harry frowned.

“What do you mean, Malfoy?”

With a hand on his cheek, Neville directed Harry’s face back to the stage, his eyes following suit, and the man was finally standing with his front to them, whereas before his face was always down, somewhere else or hidden by the long, platinated hair.

 _Oh_.

_Oh-oh._

“Ron, Ron, mate, please, get me out of this chair, please,” He pinched his friend’s hand on the table, but Rony just took it off his reach, chair screeching while they made way for the stripper - _Malfoy_ \- to come to him when time came.

“You’re not getting out of this, mate.” The red-head said.

“You _knew!”_ He accused, but their shrugs were definite.

“No, we didn’t.” Seamus guaranteed.

“That changes nothing.” Ron said with finality. “You’re doing this.”

 

_What I need is a good defense_

_Cause I’m feeling like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I’ve sinned against_

_Because he’s all I ever knew of love_

 

Malfoy was singing along the song and his grey eyes were fixed on Harry now, as he probably should, considering it was his job, apparently. He hoped from the bottom of his heart that it was an _optional_ job, and not the only thing he could get with his Former-Death-Eater reputation, because Harry didn’t win a war and took the stand on Draco’s favor for this shit.

There was no femininity in his movements, but neither that forced masculinity of women’s club’s dancers. His almost naked body contracted and expanded to the beat of the song in a show of strength and grace, and that evidenced just how fucking _fit_ Malfoy was.

Then he was back on the ground, dancing, and he was the only thing there, the pulsing center of Harry’s universe. Harry never wanted so much to _touch_ , to _grab_ and _squeeze,_ to rub himself on the thin layer of sweat that made his skin glisten against the harsh lights, and, fuck it, he had an erection. A big erection, trying to poke a hole through his fly. He shifted discreetly to pull on the fabric and make himself more comfortable.

He saw Ron and Neville do the same and felt remotely better.

 

_Heaven help me for the way I am_

_Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done_

_I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand_

_But I keep living this day like the next will never come,_

 

Malfoy stopped dancing, gave the pole one last swirl and started to walk towards Harry, and his heart leapt again. Surely he wouldn’t…? Dean paid, but that was _Malfoy._ He would probably dance for another person and then come back to return their money with a sneer and a bunch of insults, right? That was _Malfoy_ , after all.

Apparently, though, he would.

He made a beeline towards Harry’s table, asking silently for the drinks to be taken out, and his _traitor_ friends did it, even using a _scourgify_ so the table would be dry again.

And, with Harry right there, magically glued to the chair, which was glued to the floor, he sat on the table, his feet coming to Harry’s thighs, long toes caressing the soft insides before dragging back to his knees, spreading his legs apart.

All air left Harry’s lungs.

Pale feet were now in front of his very hard cock, touching only the seat of the chair, and Malfoy’s arms behind his back on the table pushed him forward on the air, undulating his body for Harry’s benefit. He stopped and laid down, eyes on him while he opened his shirt, and goddamn, everything looked erotic when he did it.

Shirt open, he arched his back sinuously until it slid from his arms. From there, he pulled his body to a crouch, on the tip of his toes, right in front of Harry. His hands were splayed on his shoulders now, and everything that Malfoy touched _burned_.

 

_Oh, help me, but don’t tell me to deny it_

_I’ve got to cleanse myself of all these lies_

_‘Til I’m enough for him_

_I got a bit lose and I’m betting high, so I’m begging you_

_Before it ends, just tell me where to begin_

 

It was like he was singing _for him_ , and for a moment he wished he was Hermione, because _then_ he would remember the damn lyrics. Malfoy made a quick movement and then he was straddling Harry, powerful thighs making surprisingly low weight over his own. His hips undulated forward, his poorly-covered dick coming to rub over the other’s erection, and he gasped, closing his eyes briefly, head tilting down.

He felt warm lips ghosting over his neck, tilting his head back even more to give him every fucking access he wanted. In fact, grabbing Malfoy’s hand and dragging him to the loo to be fucked out of his mind sounded like a pretty good idea by then.

Grey eyes touched his and Harry whimpered. He was sure he was melting as his wrist was grabbed and his hand led against Malfoy’s chest and stomach. Harry wanted to bite him to mark him in a way he couldn’t heal, just so the world knew that he was there. His pink nipples looked delicious, and really, just a nick?

Suddenly his hands were on Malfoy’s ass, and he was supposed to hold him while he bent all the way to the floor, legs spread over Harry’s, chest open to his viewing pleasure.

 

_What I need is a good defense_

_Cause I’m feeling like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I’ve sinned against_

_Because he’s all I ever knew of love_

 

Those words were mouthed right to his face, and Malfoy was grinding his crotch to his, and the Gryffindor bit his lip until it bled, because it was all he could do to avoid coming in his pants. The other four men on the table looked like they were similarly affected, despite their declared sexual orientation.

Neville tapped Harry’s shoulder and when he turned, a note was shoved on his hand with a smirk. He took a moment to understand just _where_ was he supposed to put his hands to give Malfoy the tip.

The Slytherin was looking at him expectantly. He steeled himself. He wasn’t a bloody Gryffindor for nothing.

He slid the note from the seam of his boxers, right where leg met pelvis, and didn’t miss the way Malfoy’s abdomen shook slightly with the contact.

 

_Let me know the way_

_Before there’s hell to pay_

_Give me room to lay the law and let me go_

_I’ve got to make a play_

_To make my lover stay_

_So, what would an angel say?_

_The devil wants to know_

 

The whole thing was insane, really. One moment Malfoy was looking at him; on the other, he had both hands on the floor, legs still over Harry’s thighs, but his glorious ass was facing him instead. He kept on grinding down, and it was so very close to fucking the pink, puckered hole that Harry knew was there, from the colors of his nipples, that he held his breath.

His hand went from Malfoy’s hair, sliding down to his neck, following the line of his spine, shame and guilt forgotten, and Malfoy shivered. Another bunch of notes were shoved on Harry’s hand then, probably from Seamus and Dean, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that those bills allowed him to touch Malfoy’s ass while he shoved them inside his pants, touching the dip of his spine and the swell of his bum while at it.

Then he was standing up and heading back to the stage as the music finished, and _fuck_ , fucking hell if he wasn’t leaking inside his pants. Harry could see it under the harsh lights of the stage, and everyone else could, too.

The song was coming to an end, and Malfoy was still singing along while he absent-mindedly swirled on the pole, eyes on the clients, then back on Harry.

 

_What I need is a good defense_

_Cause I’m feeling like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I’ve sinned against_

_Because he’s all I ever knew of love_

 

With the final beats, Malfoy just leaned suggestively on the pole before leaving the stage, giving space to the next stripper.

“Well,” Ron blinked out of the stupor. “That was…”

“Let’s not lie.” Dean cut in. “I’m straight, I love Ginny, but this was awesome.”

“Actually, there’s a Muggle biologist that said there’s no such thing as straight or gay. We’re all bisexual in some level, we just didn’t find the same-sex person that would attract us yet.” Neville explained breezily, and just how much time he was spending with Luna?

“Makes sense,” Seamus shrugged. “I never expected to say that in my whole life, but I’m definitely a bit poof for the git.”

“Yeah.” Rony agreed, as if something exploded inside his head. “Yeah.”

Then, all heads turned to Harry.

He blushed furiously. “What?”

Rony smirked. “What about a private lap dance, Harry?”

He groaned and thanked Merlin for the spells be wearing off, because running off to the loo was his only option except for crawling into a hole and dying.

 

###


	2. Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Enjoyed the show, Potter?” The blond asked while checking himself on the mirror, positively ruining all of Harry’s hopes.

Deep 

[ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jm7k4MyqRU)

 

He was washing his hands after struggling with his erection to pee, when Malfoy came in. He was wearing black pants and his shirt now, looking even better under the direct light. 

Harry flushed while soaping his hands. Maybe, if he kept his head down, Malfoy wouldn’t notice him. 

“Enjoyed the show, Potter?” The blond asked while checking himself on the mirror, positively ruining all of Harry’s hopes. 

Again, however, he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing. Despite what that stupid hat might say. 

“Yes,” Was his answer, but he suspected his bravado was too transparent for Malfoy. He felt naked, exposed, grey eyes making his skin itch as if it was raw. 

Malfoy turned again, watching Harry by the mirror as he fixed his hair. “You’re looking at me like I might mock you for being a fag, Potter, but, as you see, I’m not exactly standing higher than you here. I’m the one paid to give other men a stiff.”

Harry hesitated. He wanted to say that old habits die hard, but refrained from it. “Why?”

“Why what?” Malfoy leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his broad chest. Defensive. 

“Why do you work here?” He asked and stared at his own feet. It was the wrong thing to ask. Possibly. 

Thin lips quirked into a smile. “Wanting to save me again, Potter?” He huffed a laugh. “Blaise owns the place, Pansy runs it. Once they dragged me here, I didn’t want to leave.” Malfoy straightened himself, taking a step towards Harry. “It’s thrilling, really. The power over other people. Ripping desire even from straight men.” His smile was dangerous. Harry wanted to kiss it gone. 

“Hm,” He fidgeted, only half-paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth, his focus on the movements of his lips. His heart was beating fast inside his ribcage, and Harry wondered if he could puncture a lung from the pressure on his ribs. His skin was tingly, too warm, and he felt like he didn’t really fit inside of it, wishing to crawl out, to shed. 

Malfoy’s laughter felt like liquid velvet on his ears. “Well, my shift is over and I’m going to a club two blocks from here.” He announced, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it wandlessly. He took a languid drag before blowing the smoke in the air. “You should come with me.” 

Breath left him. A million anxious thoughts raced through his mind all at once, put the pull towards Malfoy was stronger. His friends would eventually realize that he left, and that night was supposed to be about him, about what he wanted to do. 

“Alright.” Was his answer, and damn it if Malfoy wasn’t looking at him like he could eat him whole. 

“Buckle up, Chosen One. You’re up for a wild ride.” With that, Draco grabbed Harry’s forearm and they apparated. 

The deep bass surrounded them, as did the smoke of the dry ice. The place was packed, lights dimmed, people dancing as if the world would be gone by the morning. Looked like gender was not a matter there - boys groping boys and girls grinding hips to other girl’s hips, girls kissing boys and people with unidentified gender looking very comfortable with lips all around their necks. 

He felt home. 

 

_ Turning over in my bed _

_ Lose myself to dreams instead _

_ Ghostly figures on the wall _

_ Dreams of you have grown so tall _

 

“Drink?” Malfoy asked him, leading him to the bar. Harry nodded, watching as he got white wine, bitter and sweet. He would taste delicious after the first sip. 

The barman heard him saying ‘ _ whatever’ _ and decided to give him a stiff whisky, and it was all he could hope for; warm and burning its way inside his stomach, ripping his hopes of sobriety. He could lose himself on that drink, and it was all he wanted to do anyway. 

Malfoy watched him down it knowingly, finishing his glass a bit after Harry, taking his hand. 

“Come and dance.” He said and Harry didn’t have any strength left to fight him, not while it was being thoroughly used to fight his own quarreling mind. 

 

_ Gone inside your talk _

_ Inside your smile, I’m unraveling _

_ Caught within your stare _

_ Within your touch, such a subtle sting _

 

He was about to say that he didn’t know how to dance when Malfoy’s hands came to his own, guiding them to his thin hips. He undulated them, hands on Harry’s shoulders, eyes on his, and Harry could talk to snakes, but Malfoy could  _ hypnotize _ them without ever learning their language, just with his icy grey eyes, melting like icebergs against Harry’s greens. 

The beat and the heat of Malfoy’s body guided him, and suddenly he was grinding back to the rhythm of the music around him, which allowed Malfoy to throw his hands in the air and  _ dance _ , muscles melting and melding against every change of note. He embodied the song; slow and desperate and free and teasing, and fuckity fuck, there it was, his heart, his lungs, all of them too big for his body; he couldn’t breathe. 

He could only hold Malfoy’s hips as he bent backwards, trusting Harry to support him with his bare hands as he let go, surrendering to the tune. 

 

_ Love the way you make me feel, I want it all the time _

_ Hate the way you make me feel, you’re all that’s on my mind _

_ Losing track and losing time, and I forget to breath _

_ Should’ve seen the water rising, not I’m in too deep _

 

His hands were slightly cold as they touched Harry’s nape, as were his lips as he brushed Harry’s, he was  _ burning _ . But the blond just smirked, myrth colouring his eyes as he turned back, fingers threaded on wild brown hair, ass rubbing over stuttering hips, guiding them into his beat. 

Harry’s hands slid to his hips once again, and he tried, but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. He felt dizzy, numb,  _ alive _ , dazed. He wanted to take Malfoy out of there and offer him everything, and while it did mean he was thinking with his penis, didn’t seem like it mattered by then, not when all he wanted in the world was the heat of his body against his own. 

And  _ yet _ , it all seemed important somehow; the way Malfoy moved freely with the song, a ribbon on the wind, choosing to wrap itself around Harry’s neck until he couldn’t breathe anything but its smell; the way his lips mouthed the lyrics to yet another song that seemed to be composed with the sole purpose of being sung by that man while he drove Harry crazy. 

 

_ Standing in my room alone  _

_ Yet I’m feeling far from home _

_ Tired as my knuckles white _

_ I’ve been holding on too tight _

 

“I have a feeling you want to tell me something.” Harry teased, matching Draco’s smile, feeling his hips stutter as lips touched his cold ear. 

The other man turned, smiling, and his hands snaked their way around Harry’s neck, possessive. “You’re not as hopeless as I thought, then.” 

Their smiles matched, their focus was just one, which made it easy to move as one; it was just like Quidditch, really, instincts and muscle memory doing all the work as he blanked his mind from all that didn’t matter, everything outside that room, outside that man. 

 

_ Stay, you’re in my head _

_ You’re in my words, even when you’re gone _

_ Stick, I’ve caught your eye _

_ I’ve caught your chill, and I still hold on _

 

“Should we get out of here?” He asked Malfoy then, and felt his heart fail him as the smile was wiped from the other’s mouth. Just his luck, it turned into a laugh. 

“But  _ Harry _ ,” His name dripped like a honey strip from the pink tongue. “We haven’t even kissed yet.” 

A growl rumbled inside his chest, which only made Malfoy laugh again. He was in so. Much. Trouble. 

His hand gripped Malfoy’s neck by his nape, fingers over the soft hairs at the base of his skull as he directed their lips to each other. The other hand gripped his waist firmly so he would  _ stop moving _ , teasing, spreading insanity around him like dandelion flecks. 

The kiss was animal, a battle, and Harry wasn’t really sure he had it in him until Malfoy brought it all out; the fierce urge to own, to possess, at least temporarily. His wet tongue and soft mouth tasted like white wine, sweet against the bitter flavor that the awareness of else’s eyes over what’s  _ his _ for the time being brought. He growled again and pressed Malfoy against a column, covering his body with his own as much as he could while pressing him there. 

“You’re a possessive bastard.” He chuckled as Harry kissed, marked the skin of his neck, completely shameless over his need to make a statement. “You’re right, we should leave.”

Harry was almost tempted to say no, that he wanted everyone to know that Malfoy would be with  _ him _ for the night; to shove his hand down the other wizard’s pants and bring him to completion where everyone could see the effect he had on him. 

Before he could mull over the idea, however, they were apparating again, this time inside a dark flat, the only light coming from the uncovered floor-to-ceiling windows. He would have time to look around later, he decided, because Draco was guiding him and throwing him on the bed and that seemed way more important than knowing where the hell he was. 

Malfoy, the bastard, was humming to the lost lyrics of the song they missed as he straddled Harry and took off his shirt for him, for the second time that night, and wasn’t he the luckiest fucking bastard in the whole Britain?

“ _ Love the way you make me feel, I want it all the time, _ ” He nipped Harry’s jaw, his neck, leaving a guiltless mark there, vengeful bastard that he was. Harry’s breath hitched.  _ “Hate the way you make me feel, you’re all that’s on my mind _ .” He grind his hips down and Harry moaned, debauched, gone. 

He vanished their clothes with a wave of his hand, making Malfoy’s brows rise to his hairline. “I’ll get them back,” He promised, lips devouring the other man’s with the hunger of a lifetime. The promise was empty, and Malfoy knew it, but he seemed to get over it quickly, reaching for the lube on his nightstand. 

“I  _ liked  _ that shirt.” He complained, but forgot about it once his wet fingers entered himself. Harry would never forget his face, the way it scrunched up a bit before relaxing, eyes closed, lips just apart, sucking breath after breath in as he prepared himself. 

Then he was sinking Harry’s cock on him and the moan was mutual, shared. He started to move his hips, unhurriedly, and Harry decided it was for the best that Malfoy starred that show. 

He looked  _ beautiful _ , riding Harry impudently in search for his own pleasure, head thrown back and hair mussed with the same abandon he showed while dancing, and  _ that _ , right there, was why he was so good. He cared too much to hold everything inside, just until he didn’t, and everything spilled artistically over whoever was standing next, clueless victims of his lure. 

It didn’t take long for his hips to snap down quickly, slapping sound filling the room, ragged breaths and one hand on Harry’s chest for support. He wanted to watch, to see, so he reached a hand and took Draco’s erection on his hand, stroking him. 

The sound that left his mouth was a raw thing, and that image would be forever etched into his retina, into his brain; the way the flush spread from Draco’s chest to his cheeks and his back bent all the way down, forcing Harry to scramble to support him with his hands over the base of it, sitting up faster than he thought he was capable of. 

Draco was still panting his orgasm, now painted white over Harry’s skin, while he thrust up inside the boneless man on his lap, placing the blond head to rest on his shoulder as his hips snapped mercilessly up and  _ up,  _ making his claim, opening that willing body further to him while Draco just mumbled, hummed something intelligible, voice vibrating against Harry’s chest. 

His clímax came as lava from a volcano, erupting, branding everything in its path. He gave himself a minute to soften inside of Draco before easing him on the mattress carefully, covering him with a sheet. 

A quick muttered cleaning spell afterwards, and his hands were around the half-asleep body beside him. He was a shameless cuddler, and unless Malfoy mustered the strength and the will to throw him out of his house, he would be right there, glued to his backside, breathing in the scent of his hair. 

Malfoy mumbled something and Harry had to sharpen his hearing to make it out, low as it was. 

_ Losing track and losing time, and I forget to breath _

_ Should’ve seen the water rising, now I’m in too deep _

 

The song lulled him to sleep, and Harry wondered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Leave a comment if you did, and if you didn't - helpful criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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